


Mine.

by aliciutza



Series: Aliciutza Writes Jonerys Drabbles & Short Stories [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, F/M, I hope, Jealous Jon Snow, Shameless Smut, Smut, and when the bitches ask the bitches receive, dont worry you'll like jon's reaction, i wanted to stop this at the kiss but oh boy my bitches made me finish the smut, kiss prompt, like extra jealous, panties dropped around the globe yes sir, ugh idk whyyyy but jealous jon is too damn hot for this, well maybe, yes i mention Daario Naharis because we need a good fuckboi to rile Jon up, your Targaryen is showing Jonno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Jon's life has been turned upside down - not only does he now know the truth of his parentage, but on top of it, an annoying man has shown up at Winterfell and he keeps hanging around Daenerys. Until Jon snaps.The prompt: 26. Jealous kiss





	Mine.

**Author's Note:**

> The Kiss Prompts come [from this post here ](http://adecila.tumblr.com/post/183184679155/prompt-list)

Nothing drove him as angry as the sellsword – it wasn’t because of his cocky attitude, nor because he was constantly undermining Jon’s authority, not even because the man had no scruples. No, it was the way he kept leering at the Queen, the way he constantly followed her around, the way he begged for her attention like a lost puppy. He hadn’t had her since they had arrived at Winterfell; even if he were to successfully sneak around the keep and find his way to her chambers, the bloody sellsword didn’t budge from his post, choosing to stay guard each night at her door.

 

His mood was drastically turning sour with every hour he couldn’t kiss her. He hadn’t even noticed just how mad the ridiculous pompous man with his stupid blue beard and flashy clothes drove him – until he had yelled at Sam for forgetting to bring parchment so he could write to Greywater Watch. Ashamed for his uncalled outburst, he had profusely apologised, despite Sam’s reassurances.

 

“You’re still the King, Jon, not just in the North, but you’re the heir to the Iron Throne.”  

 

Sam had only stated the obvious, yet despite not caring much for neither title nor position, his friend’s words had made him realise that he was a King, and a King could do as he pleased; so, for the first time since they had learned the truth of his parentage, he made for the Queen’s chambers. 

 

Just as expected, the sellsword was waiting at his usual post. Jon gave a curt nod to the two Unsullied and made for the door’s handle.

 

“The Queen does not wish to see _anyone_ ,” the blue bearded fool stared him down, hands on the pommel of his sword.

 

“In case you have forgotten, this is _my_   keep,” Jon snarled, making a point of resting his other hand on Longclaw.

 

“Mmm, maybe, but these are the Queen’s chambers, and no one goes inside, unless summoned,” the sellsword smirked.

 

“Yet I am not just anyone,” Jon took a step towards the man.

 

Before the sellsword could say whatever clever retort he had thought of, the door flew open. “What is the meaning of this?” Daenerys stood in the threshold, eyes red and jaw locked, gaze darting between the two men squabbling outside her door.

 

“Nothing, my Queen, just your _Warden_ not knowing _his place_ ,” the sellsword quipped.

 

“ _You_ are the one forgetting his place,” she replied.

 

Jon’s victorious smirk fell as quickly as it had appeared when the Queen looked at him expectantly, brows knitted together.

 

“I… need to speak to you,” he managed to say. 

 

“I don’t,” she replied, turning, ready to shut the door behind her.

 

“Dany, _please_ ,” he croaked. Jon should have felt ashamed to show such deference in front of the sellsword, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care enough.

 

Her hand stilled on the half-closed door; Jon could not dare hope, but after a long moment, she finally pushed it open again without turning. He ignored the sellsword’s scoff and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

 

“Dany…” he tentatively whispered.

 

“What do you want, Jon?” she snapped, staring daggers at him. “You ignore me for days and you finally come here to do what? Talk more strategy? Tell me not to join my army in battle? Tell me…”

 

“Why did you summon him here,” he cut her off. “The sellsword,” he continued.

 

“I did not, he…” she faltered, taken aback by his peculiar inquiry. “Why does it matter anyway?”

 

Jon flexed his sword hand, speaking through gritted teeth, “It matters to _me_. I cannot stand him. I swear to the Old Gods and the New, if he stares at you like that one more time…” he tried breathing through his nose to calm himself.

 

“Like what,” Dany prodded, crossing her hands.

 

“Like you’re _his_.”

 

He noticed how she gulped, despite her attempts to cover it; before her hands dropped to hang on each side of her body, he had already reached her in three long strides. He picked her up and dropped her sweet plump arse on the nearby table. Jon swallowed her yelp of surprise, not leaving her the opportunity to cast him away. He had stayed away much too long and he had missed her terribly. He kissed her hard, scratching her face with his beard, nipping on her lips, his hands in her silver hair, effectively trapping her against his body.

 

She fisted the front of his fur coat, pulling him closer; she bit hard on his bottom lip, he growled, but didn’t cease. Dany was already grinding against him, one of her hands searching for the laces to his britches.

 

He let go of her, continuing the assault on her mouth, despite breaking the perfect synchrony they had just achieved, aiding her in undoing the ties. Together, they did the same to her britches, pulling them down to her ankles. He pulled her to the edge of the table and entered her in one swift move. He stilled; it was too much, all at once, like that very first night on her ship. “Mine,” he said, panting, staring into her violet eyes, “Mine.”

 

Dany nodded, hands on his face, “Yours.” She took his mouth in a fierce kiss and he had to close his eyes to keep the tears from falling down his face. She still loved him, despite their shared blood, and especially despite how he had shut her out since he had learned the truth about his parents.

 

“Mine,” he grunted in between kisses, resuming their coupling, pulling her closer to his chest. It wasn’t perfect, neither as slow nor as sweet as he would have wanted, his movements erratic, tasting as much skin as her clothes allowed, her moans encouraging him to pick up the pace. He bit her neck, a bit too hard, but she let him; it would leave a mark, he knew. _Good. Let the others see that she is his._ Soon she was screaming his name, her nails digging into his arms, leaving marks through all the layers of clothes he was wearing.

 

He joined her, much too soon, spilling his seed in her like he had numerous times before. She didn’t let go of him – for how long, he couldn’t tell. After they both stopped panting, she took his face in her hands, staring at him with those big eyes, “Mine,” she said, and then she kissed him harder.  

**Author's Note:**

> More drabbles to post tomorrow!


End file.
